


Just Breathing Can be a Luxury

by glimpsesfromanivorytower (rosewiththorns)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Edmonton Oilers, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Massage, New Jersey Devils, Oral Sex, trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/glimpsesfromanivorytower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the BioSteel Tournament, Taylor massages Mike's body, and Mike massages Taylor's ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathing Can be a Luxury

“Just breathing can be such a luxury sometimes.”—Walter Kirn 

Just Breathing Can be a Luxury

Taylor, whose body was aching with muscles he hadn’t known existed before they decided to protest a hard day of training, wasn’t sure exactly how he had ended up agreeing to give Mike Cammalleri a massage. Maybe it was something about the playfulness in the gap-toothed smile that made him accede to Mike’s request, or perhaps it was just a self-effacing need to be seen as a good, unselfish teammate after the shit Klefbom and Scrivens had spewed about his character, though what gave them a right to run their mouths about him when if Klefbom had been such an All-Star on defense Taylor wouldn’t have been traded to shore up a position of terrible weakness for the Oilers, and there was a reason that Scrivens had been exiled to the KHL and that was no NHL team wanted to touch him with a twelve foot pole. 

“Massage higher.” Mike’s voice was an exhale of relieved tension Taylor wished that he could feel. “There’s a knot in my shoulder that needs to come out. Yeah, that’s the spot. You got it.” 

“Am I a good massager?” Taylor asked, as he kneaded at Mike’s taut flesh. 

“I’ve had worse.” Mike craned his neck to bestow a lopsided grin on Taylor. 

“Great.” Taylor continued to untie the knot in Mike’s shoulder. “You can tell everyone in New Jersey what an awesome teammate I am so they don’t believe the crap that’s circulating about me being a shitty one.” 

“Are you massaging me just to prove that you aren’t a shitty teammate?” Mike’s grin was sliding into smirk territory, which made Taylor bristle. 

“Don’t act innocent.” Taylor found that it released his stress to squeeze at Mike’s skin, watching it redden as he grasped it and whiten again when he set it free. “I know you’ve heard all the gossip about me being traded because I suck as a teammate and was a cancer in the Oilers’ locker room.” 

“If being traded proves you suck as a teammate and are a cancer, I’ve got you beat.” Mike chuckled, causing his shoulder to heave as Taylor massaged it. “I was traded in the middle of a game by the Habs because they really hated what I said to the press about a losing culture. I’m Italian, so I like to run my mouth more than I should, but that means I fit in wonderfully in New Jersey. It’s a very Mafia state, you know.” 

“Just being traded isn’t the only reason everybody thinks I suck as a teammate and was a cancer in the Oilers locker room.” Taylor bit his lip as he rubbed at Mike’s shoulder. “Klefbom and Scrivens also took it upon themselves to bitch about me in the media.” 

“Very classy of them, especially Scrivens.” Mike snorted, and Taylor felt oddly comforted by the derision of a new teammate who was still basically a stranger. His new teammates seemed to be more loyal than his old, and Taylor didn’t know whether he should be happy or sad about that. At least the season would start soon, and he could be so motivated by trying to drag the Devils back into the playoffs—so people could stop accusing him of being a loser on basement teams—that he would have no time for grieving. Everything would be hard work and numbness until the memory of Edmonton had faded and New Jersey felt like home. “That’d be like if Stephen Gionta whined to the press about Cory not showing up to big games or whatever the fuck it was Scrivens said about you.” 

“It’s hard.” Taylor’s throat tightened, which would have been good since he was saying too much, except that he couldn’t breathe, and he needed to breathe, not only to calm down and regain his wits but also to survive. “The whole hockey world believes any defamatory thing a former teammate with an ax to grind has to say about you.” 

“Not the whole hockey world,” corrected Mike, reaching up to grab Taylor’s chin so that their eyes locked and Taylor’s stomach performed an impressive display of gymnastics that could have challenged for a gold medal at the Olympics. “Not in New Jersey. In New Jersey we’re excited to add a dynamic offensive player.” 

“Show me how excited you are.” Taylor licked dry lips, wondering what it felt like to kiss a man who was missing his front teeth, but wanting to try it at least once since that gap-toothed grin of Mike’s was more arousing than it should have been and massaging Mike had awakened Taylor’s sex drive. “And I’ll show you what a dynamic player I am.” 

“Sounds like a fair deal.” Mike tilted his head up to press his mouth against Taylor’s, and Taylor’s tongue, dry as his lips had been, was so thirsty that he plunged it into Mike’s open mouth, scraping his tastebuds against the bone of Mike’s teeth as he slid his tongue through the holes where Mike once had front teeth. 

Their tongues thrashed like eels, and Taylor reveled in Mike’s wetness after a long, hot day of training where however many gallons of water he had gulped down hadn’t been enough, until he rasped, “I’ve always been curious whether hockey players without teeth could kiss as well as those who weren’t missing any.” 

“After your scientific study—“ Mike’s tongue swirled against the inside of Taylor’s cheek—“what would your conclusion be?” 

“You can’t kiss as well.” Taylor lapped at the exposed flesh where Mike’s teeth had once lodged. “You can kiss better. There’s more tongue.” 

“New Jersey is a good spot to have a tongue.” Mike stroked the bow of Taylor’s jawline. “They won’t cut it out just because you dare to speak with it.” 

“Excellent.” Taylor trailed a hand along the ridges of Mike’s spine. “I can think of so many uses for the tongue beside speaking.” 

“You have a remarkable imagination.” Mike leaned into Taylor’s touch. “One day you must show me some more.” 

“Why wait?” Without warning, Taylor yanked off Mike’s boxers, so that Mike, who had removed his shirt for the massage, was sprawled naked on the gunnery in the medical room, which was thick and dank with the smell of mingled sweat and desire. Slipping a hand around Mike’s waist to cup at Mike’s stiffening cock, Taylor murmured, “What’s wrong with now?” 

“No time like the present,” Mike managed to agree before Taylor seized his hardened dick into his mouth, swallowing all words along with the aroused organ. Moans and gasps replaced all speech until Mike came against Taylor’s questing tongue, drowning everything in a stream of semen and an ocean of abandon that reminded Taylor that breathing was a luxury and eternity could only be found between each heartbeat.


End file.
